


i'm only human

by jiminniexmochi



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison is still alive, Alpha Derek, Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, Angst with a Happy Ending, Derek Hale is Stiles Stilinski's Anchor, Derek is Derek, Derek is Not a Failwolf, Derek is a Good Boyfriend, Derek is a Softie, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt Stiles, I Will Go Down With This Ship, Kidnapped Stiles, Lydia Martin & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, M/M, Mates Derek Hale/Stiles Stilinski, Oblivious Stiles, Pining Derek, Post-Nogitsune, Post-Nogitsune Stiles Stilinski, Protective Derek, Scott McCall & Stiles Stilinski Friendship, Stiles Stilinski Deserves Nice Things, Stiles is Derek's spark, Stiles is Pushed Out of the Pack, Tortured Stiles Stilinski, also i am new to teen wolf, and ends up getting kidnapped, and he's been battling them since void, and she's still dating scott, basically stiles is convinced he's not worthy of being pack, but then again so does everyone in the pack, by pack i mean jackson, erica lowkey ships sterek hardcore, everyone is protective over stiles, i got inspired by the song i'm only human by christina perri, jackson and lydia are a couple as well, just finished season 3, kinda?? he kicks himself out, stiles has his own demons, the pack are kind of a dick to him in the beginning, tho it's not implied so are erica and boyd, tho when is he not a dick amirite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-29
Updated: 2017-08-29
Packaged: 2018-12-21 13:20:44
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 17,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11945085
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jiminniexmochi/pseuds/jiminniexmochi
Summary: Stiles was never usually like this. He was always a walking energizer bunny that didn't know when to shut up and radiated of nervous energy. He always moving, always talking, always had something to say, always filling the silence with his sarcasm and terrible puns and crude jokes. But he had his own demons, and they were growing bolder, darker, through the years; living off of the darkness that the nogistune had left behind."You are so fucking fantastic in everything you do and I'm just me! I'm just skinny, defenseless Stiles with no werewolf powers, no super senses, no claws--I have fucking nothing to offer to the table except for witty comments and sarcastic humor!!"





	i'm only human

**Author's Note:**

> Again, please note: I am relatively new to Teen Wolf. I had JUST finished Season 3 and this is my first Teen Wolf related fanfic, so please excuse the errors. I hope this story is decent and you enjoy though ^^; I do recommend listening to 'I'm Only Human' by Christina Perri as you read this, though.

He remembered the image of his mother crisp and clear, like she had never really left in the first place. Long, beautiful chestnut hair and eyes that mirrored Stiles'. Like his own, she had long beautiful eyelashes—though he didn't know where he got all those moles from. She was gentle in all the right ways and she loved Stiles through every curve and corner of him. She always spoke to him in such a soft tone, fingers always running through his hair soothingly; lulling Stiles towards sleep or calming him down after a rough day of school. Point is, she was always... _there_.  
  
And when she got diagnosed with frontotemporal dementia, it was like his entire world just gave up and caved in. Stiles was forced to watch his mother, day by day, slowly loose her grip on her mentality as she laid in her hospital bed. Family members that Stiles both recognized and didn't recognize would come in and out of the room on a daily basis, bring a variety of flowers and balloons—or little trinkets to give to her in hopes that she'd still have a part of them in her heart. It had gotten to the point when her mental state was so ragged, sometimes she wouldn't even know who her own husband was. But Stiles knew—oh he _knew_ —that the day where she wouldn't know who he was was coming. And it came too soon and he wasn't prepared for it.  
  
He remembered her throwing things at him, convinced that 'the piece of shit standing over there' was trying to kill her. _Him_. Kill _her_. His _own mother_ —she was convinced that he was trying to kill her. It tore him to shreds. He remembered running all the way back home in the pissing rain and sobbing so hard that night that when day broke, it was as if he had strep throat. However, despite all of that, he never stopped returning to his mother in the hospital; but he wouldn't dare step into her room, only watch from the window that peered in. He didn't want the same incident to happen all over again; for her to call him a murderer, for him to throw things at him, for her to curse and scream and yell at him (a complete 180 of the mother he grew up with), and for 5 security guards to rush in and restrain her as they sedated her.  
  
Most of all, he remembered the day that she died. The funeral was quiet, no one had really spoken a word, and when Stiles had went up to the podium dressed in black, eyes blood-shot, and an endless amount of tears pouring down his cheeks—he went on and talked about his mother, the goodness of her and the kindness in her eyes. He spoke about how she would buy only specific peanut butter just for Stiles because she knew he hated the other kinds of peanut butters except for that one. He spoke about how she would still, even as he grew into high school, would occasionally pack his lunch and make sure to cut the crust off of his sandwiches and cut them into halves. He spoke how about she would leave little notes for him in his lunch pale or leave it sticking out one of his books as if serving for a bookmark, sometimes she could even put them on his door, and each note would give him one quality that she loved about her son. By the time he had finished his speech, everyone was crying and his dad embraced him for the first time since she was diagnosed.  
  
Stiles remembers everything. He remembers how quickly his father changed after her death; that he'd have to clean up various battles of alcohol and rum every night. His father had barely spoken to him and when he did, "it's late shift tonight, Stiles" and "can you bring me some lunch later? remember; no bacon."

Stiles had felt the relationship between father and son wither and die over the months following his mother's death.

_Does he burden him?  
Does he remind his father too much of his mother?  
Does he blame Stiles for her suicide? Does he blame himself?  
Does he even want Stiles around anymore?_

Stiles was never usually like this. He was always a walking energizer bunny that didn't know when to shut up and radiated of nervous energy. He always moving, always talking, always had something to say, always filling the silence with his sarcasm and terrible puns and crude jokes. But he had his own demons, and they were growing bolder, darker, through the years; living off of the darkness that the nogistune had left behind.  
  
Most of all; his demons were winning. Especially now.  
  
"So, like, I think I may be in love with her." Scott sighed dreamily and sank a little further into his chair, a blissed expression plastered on his face. All limbs, short hair, lop-sided jaw, and an adorable smile—that's his best friend, alright.  
  
"Which, I mean, good for you buddy. But, uh, not a good idea." Stiles muttered around a mouthful of food. "You, wolf. Her, argent. Not a great combination. Especially with her father watching your movement like a fucking hawk."  
  
"Things could change." Scott said firmly, his eyebrows lightly furrowing. "Her father could change."  
  
Stiles snort. "Yeah, when pigs fly." He grumbled and got a kick to the shin in return.  
  
"Is he whining about how painfully single he is again?" Jackson grunted as he plopped his lunch plate on to the table and put his book-bag aside. "Because, _newsflash_ asswipe, you're gonna be single forever."  
  
Stiles gave him a look. "Who pissed in your cereal?"  
  
"He's not gonna be single forever." Lydia joined in as she slides into Jackson's lap. "He'll eventually find someone.... with low standards and poor qualities."  
  
"Guys." Scott spoke firmly, his eyebrows raising. "Seriously?"  
  
Jackson grunted a little and elbowed Stiles a little too roughly. "Don't be such a sourpuss."  
  
Stiles rolled his eyes. "If only closed minds comes with closed mouths." He sighed.  
  
How the hell did Stiles even end up in a place like this with people like them, anyways? Not only is he third-wheeling double time, he's getting third-wheeled by seriously _amazing_ people. Then there's him...   
  
He glanced up and noticed Scott's pointed look that was aimed at him. "What? Scott, come on- I'm 147lbs of pale skin and fragile bone. Sarcasm is my **_only_** defense."  
  
"Alright, alright, 'nuff chit-chat." Allison dismissed and leaned forward. "Have you guys heard? Supposedly there's a new kanima on the loose."  
  
Jackson froze a little, sandwich halfway in his mouth. "For real?"  
  
Stiles made a face. "First, stop talking when you have something in your mouth. Second, I heard all about it from my dad last night." He sighed and opened his water bottle. "I'm not entirely sure about what's going on, and neither does he, because the kanima is seemingly killing the first person it sees."  
  
"So it's killing at random?" Scott questioned, perplexed. "I wonder if the thing has a master or not."  
  
"Who knows." Stiles shrugs after chugging down some water. "We won't really know for sure until we do some studying."  
  
Allison leaned her elbows on to the table with a smile. "And I take it you went on ahead and did some studying?"  
  
"Damn, girl, you know me so well." Stiles purred in pleasure then reached into his bag to pull out a notebook. "I spent like 4 hours running around town to get this information so, _please_ , take this seriously. The killings had started happening like 2 days ago. The first victim was a grocery clerk who was just getting out of work and walking to her car. She was killed around 11:45pm and the only injury sustained was three deep claw marks on her throat and a small little cut on the back of her neck, which we all know is to paralyze the victim. Her name was Amanda Loote and she was actually about to graduate her final year of university. Unfortunately, she leaves behind two kids and a husband."  
  
"Damn... Poor kids. She had her whole life ahead of her." Lydia mourned softly, a small pout on her plump lips.  
  
"The most recent victim was a guy named Matthew McCane. He is a construction worker and he also left behind a wife and 3 kids, one of them was just born a couple of days ago too. He was killed in the same way Amanda was." Stiles continued as he flipped through his pages of notes. "I was able to convince my dad to show me some of the pictures from the crime scenes." _That is if you think convincing is muttering 'I am gonna spend an eternity in the lowest circle of hell' while getting your father drunk as you pour glass after glass of whiskey._ "I gotta admit, it's kind of odd. I did a whole shit ton of research on the victims and it turns out, they don't know each other. Matthew was 32, grew up in Seattle and Amanda just turned 24 and she grew up in Ontario, Canada before she moved here to California. The only thing that is slightly similar is that they both studied Law in the colleges they went to."  
  
Scott hummed as he rubbed his chin. "When was Matthew killed? Around the same time as Amanda?" Stiles nodded as he took a bite out of his apple. "So I'm guessing this thing only comes out during night time..."  
  
"Which means we have to go and look for it, right?" Jackson sighed in defeat. "I knew this was coming."  
  
"Look at us; the baddest clique on the universe joining forces to defeat the biggest bad of the week." Stiles chimed then took another bite of his apple before humming in thought. "Did you know that an apple a day keeps everyone away if you throw it hard enough?"  
  
"Oh, is that so? Shall we test that theory?" Jackson sang sarcastically.  
  
Stiles groaned and grabbed his things. "Oh my god- I don't have the energy to pretend to like you today."  
  
Lydia shot him a look. "When will you two stop hating each other?!" She complained.  
  
The human pauses briefly, eyes narrowing slightly and lips pursing a little in thought while his arms folded across his chest. "I never said I hated him." He replied after a moment. Jackson looked at him with raised eyebrows. "I'm just saying that if he was on fire, I'd consider _roasting some marshmallows_."  
  
 _"Jesus fucking Christ, Stiles."_  
  
They were all extraordinary. Scott and Jackson could shift into a wolf at any given second and have super healing. Allison is the definition of _Karma Is A Dish Served Cold But Can Be Reheated In The Microwave of Evil_ with her crossbows and daggers. Lydia is also a badass with screams so loud it can crack glass (this was the only time in Stiles' life where he actually _sympathized_ with Jackson) who is basically a _Bitch You About To Die_ detector. And then there's skinny, defenseless Stiles that has reached that point in life when his brains goes from _you probably shouldn't say/do that_ to _the hell with it—let's see what happens_.  
  
They scheduled a time and place to meet later that night in hopes to track down the Biggest Bad of The Week. When Stiles went home, the house was empty and he figured his father was still at work - probably over time or stuck doing a task. Either way, it was just Stiles and his thoughts for hours on end. And when he's alone, his thoughts get the best of him.  
  
As Stiles rid himself of his clothes and stepped in to the warm shower, he closed his eyes and let the warm water roll across his skin. 

_They don't need you._   
_They're perfectly fine on their own._   
_You're just an annoying brat that they tolerate just so they don't feel guilty when they see you sitting alone in the cafeteria._   
_They don't want you around._   
_They're all beautiful and perfect and strong and smart—_   
_and **you** —_ _you're an ugly piece of trash that thinks that you have a right to even walk beside them._   
_They don't **need** you._   
_They don't **want** you._   
_So why do you even bother existing?_

He could feel his nails digging into the flat of his palms and that little jab of pain is what snapped him back into reality. With a dejected sigh, he shampooed his hair and cleaned his skin thoroughly before stepping out, drying himself off, and found some new clothes to wear. He was finally dressed when he heard a long, calling howl from out in the night and Stiles was struck with a thought.  
  
Scott even has a fucking pack, for God's sake. Erica, Boyd, Isaac, and Derek--Derek. _Derek_. Fuck— ** _Derek_**.  
  
With a sigh, Stiles shook his head to rid himself of the image of the sourwolf with grumpy eyebrows, piercing eyes, a permanent scowl whom is always wearing a leather jacket and a shirt so forming, it makes Stiles want to _cry_ in a puddle of his own drool.  
  
But the howl was from Scott, definitely; calling everyone together ahead of time ( _"you have **phones** for a reason, Scott, and there's such a thing as a group message but **fine** we'll do it your way"_ ). So he put his red hoodie on and hopped into his jeep before he heads down to their decided meet up place.  
  
"So, what's up?" Stiles spoke as he approached them. "Why'd you call us all out here so early?"  
  
"Because I just found out that my dad and some other hunters had just spotted the kanima. They're heading there now." Allison responded, tucking her phone into her pocket. "We've gotta get there before my dad does. That way we can hopefully find out who the kanima is and if they have a master or not."  
  
"Do we really have to bring him along?" Jackson groaned.  
  
Ignoring the twinge of hurt, Stiles brought out his only defense. "Oh, you hate me, huh?" He put his hand on his chest as his eyebrows rose. "Well, join the club! There are weekly meetings at the corner of _Fuck You St_ and _Kiss My Ass Blvd_."  
  
"Stiles." Lydia hissed. " _Focus_."  
  
"How can I focus when he's being a _literal_ ray of salt?!"  
  
" _Stiles._ "  
  
"Fucking— _fine_."  
  
Scott grinned a little and threw his arm over Stiles' shoulder as they walked down the street.  
  
"Tell me why we're walking?" Lydia whined.  
  
"Because the kanima was, fortunately, spotted just around the corner." Allison whispered.  
  
"Why are you whispering?" Jackson asked with a nose-scrunch.  
  
"Well what kind of group will we be if we come bursting into the scene yelling at each other when we're trying to catch the kanima?"  Scott rebounded. Jackson paused before nodding in agreement. Allison leads them into an alley way where they climb a fence and walk further down until they reach an abandoned warehouse. They took a second to hide behind a wall, eyes searching and observing their surroundings before they continued forward.  
  
"This is where I heard my dad talking about... This is where the kanima was spotted." Allison whispered as she jogged toward a door. "It's like—it's like some kind of abandoned mill or factory, I'm not entirely sure. But it's been abandoned for like 100 years or so."  
  
"Which means we should be careful." Stiles advised. "This thing looks like it's had better days." He heard Scott grunt in agreement before he helped Allison wedge open the rusty door; Stiles cringing a little at the loud noise it made as it swung slowly open.  
  
"Well, if _that_ wasn't a beacon to our entrance then I don't know what was."  
  
"Stiles, I swear to _god_." Jackson growled in annoyance. "How are you not murdered every second?"  
  
Lydia groaned. "If both of you don't shut up, I'll drag your sorry asses out of here by the ear." She threatened. That was enough to snap both of their mouths shut as they climbed (on Stiles' end, _ungracefully_ ) into the building. It was quiet. Horror movie quiet.  
  
"Why would the kanima hide in a place this like this?" Scott questioned in confusion as he took the place in.  
  
Allison hummed. "Beats me."  
  
"Well, it's abandoned for one." Stiles commented as he poked an old piece of equipment, scrunching his face in disgust as he noticed the amount of dirt and dust that was now on his fingertip (in which he wiped it off of Scott's shirt, earning a cold glare from his friend). "I bet the idiot thought it'd be the last place people would try looking."  
  
The banshee sighed and folds her arms across her chest. "Quite the contrary, actually. Sometimes, when a person is being sought-out by the police or media, people tend to look at the abandoned places to start off with. The more crumbly or secluded a building is, the more likely the criminal is to hide in it so they can avoid the outside world for a little while at least." Stiles walked ahead of them and tilted his head up to look upwards at the second level; which consisted of floors that were hanging by threads and railings that were holding together by mere nails. There was a stairway, a very rusty and unstable looking one at most, leading up to the second floor but Stiles knew that would be a no go.

Damn thing looks like it could _Do The Flop_ any second now.  
  
"Alli, are you _sure_ your dad said the kanima is hiding in this place?" Scott wanted to double-check that they had the address right. Stiles spun around slowly as he continued to silently observe the area, pausing briefly as he noticed a giant machine in the middle of an open area, while the others continued to bicker in the background.  
  
"Yes, I'm sure!" Allison insisted, attitude slightly kicking in. "This is the right place, Scott!"  
  
"Okay, okay." Scott acquiesced and held his hands up in surrender. Stiles tilted his head to the side as he slowly approached the machine. It looked like.. a belt of some sort; where they would lay their materials or supplies on and it'd get transported to another area on the same floor. It looked destroyed, barely there, and all of the metal was all rusty and dirty. As he finally approached it, he got curious of how stable the thing really was.  
  
"But I don't see anything. Or hear anything." Lydia was making a skeptical expression. "I feel like we're wasting our time here." She chided. There was a beat of silence followed by a defeated sigh from Allison. Stiles raised his hand and ran it along the metal of the belt. It was a little sturdy, but it groaned a little under the lightest weight. However, that's not what made him freeze; the damn thing wasn't groaning under _his_ touch.  
  
"Maybe we should just go?" Jackson piped. With furrowed brows, Stiles looked down the left side of the belt; it was torn to shreds and broken off and there was nothing over there. So he looked to the right and noticed that the belt was still in tact down that way, but it was leading to an area of the building that the moonlight didn't quite reach yet.  
  
"Guys?" He called out.  
  
"There is another abandoned mill down the road. We can go there instead." Scott suggested. They were all completely disregarding Stiles even as the hesitant male was slowly approaching the dark area.  
  
"Guys? I think I-"  
  
"But it's almost 1 in the morning." Lydia whined. "We've got school tomorrow and I haven't even finished all of my homework yet."  
  
Jackson scoffed. "Well, whose fault is that?"  
  
Stiles stopped walking and looked down at the belt, swallowing thickly he put his hand on the metal. "Guys!" He yelled, his voice echoing off of the walls and the whole building seemed to rattle a little. His friends finally whipped around to acknowledge his existence.  
  
"Stiles! Don't yell! I'm pretty sure this is trespassing!" Scott scolded.  
  
"Alright, I get that but-"  
  
"Whatever. Let's just go." Jackson clipped.   
  
Stiles scowled. "Guys, seriously?" He sighed. "There's something here." He could feel the metal shaking and rattling, the groans and creaks of the equipment getting slowly louder—more persistent. Whatever is making it do that is getting closer and they _weren't_ listening.

Stiles opened his mouth to yell at them again before something cut him off; a loud, animalistic screech that silenced everyone just seconds before the kanima came barrelling out of the darkness that was in front of him.  
  
"Stiles! Why didn't you say something?!" Jackson shouted as they all got into positions. Stiles would have responded with a witty comment if the damn lizard didn't wrap it's tail around his neck and toss him to the other side of the building like he weighed a feather. He hit the brick wall and it knocked all of the air out of his lungs—and he swore he heard a few soft cracks in his ribs—just before the wall gave out. The human collapsed down with the unstable brick wall and he landed painfully on a rough batch of bricks, pain shooting up his spine and making him groan. He could hear the scuffling and ruffling, the yells, the shouts, and the curses of his friends fighting off the lizard; Lydia's shout of Jackson's name followed by a thud and Stiles presumed that the moron got paralyzed. Stiles let out a few breathes and inhaled sharply, which was soon proven to be a bad idea because the aching in his ribs was getting worse each time he breathed.  
  
 _Yup_. Definitely a rib or two broken.  
  
"Okay. Okay, you're okay." He reassured himself. He took a second to move his limbs a little, mainly to see if anything else was hurting and if he had been paralyzed during his own scuffle with the abomination. So he shifted a little and managed to sit up a little, pushing some of the bricks off of him. When he heard a yell of his own name, his head shot up and he froze in _terror_. The kanima was right in front of him. Mere centimeters from his face. Stiles swore his heart stopped and he held his breathe, eyes comically wide. Vaguely, he could see his friends laying on the ground paralyzed—watching him in mirrored terror. The lizard stared directly into Stiles' eyes but made no movement to harm him (that would be a thought for later, that's if he survived this).  
  
"G-Guys—" His voice wavered a little. "It's staring at me!"  
  
"Oh my god." Lydia gasped.   
  
"—Why the fuck is it just staring at me?"  
  
"I have no idea, but _don't. Move. A muscle._ " Scott instructed. If he dared to, Stiles would break the eye-contact just to give his friend a dirty look.  
  
"Yeah, because moving is _totally_ a good idea." Stiles hissed through gritted teeth. The kanima tilted its head a little, tail swaying slowly behind it. It seemed... content with what it was looking at; staring at Stiles in child-like curiosity and interest. And it made Stiles stomach churn and eyebrows furrow because why, _in the hell_ , would it be looking at Stiles like that?  
  
"Stiles—" Lydia cut herself off at the kanima moved, lifting it clawed hand slowly up towards Stiles' face. The human took a sharp inhale in and stiffened as the hand drew close but what made Stiles even more terrified was that it was reaching towards his _lips_.  
  
Holy shit. Holy _shit._ _Holy **shit**. What _ in the _actual butt-fuckery_ —  
  
Suddenly, a loud roar cracked the tense silence and the kanima was out of his space with a surprised screech. Stiles jumped, gasping, and he whirled his head around to find that Derek— _why the fuck is he here?_ —had tackled the damn thing and was currently wrestling with it. He heard footsteps to his side and looked over, spotting Erica, Boyd, and Isaac jogging over. Erica was the one to rush over to Stiles while the other two went to check on his paralyzed friends.  
  
"Are you okay?" Erica breathed, outlined eyes wide in shock and worry.  
  
"Surprisingly, yes." Stiles squeaked, still as stiff as a board. "What the fuck just happened?"  
  
Erica seemed as perplexed as him. "I... I don't know." There was a loud crash and a yelp that grabbed both of their attentions. Stiles was quick to jump to his feet when he saw that Derek had been tossed through a brick wall. The kanima let out a ear-piercing screech in anger before climbing up the wall, on to the unstable second floor above, through a broken window, and was—gone. Stiles jogged over to where Derek had landed and quickly tossed some bricks that landed on top of him to the side.  
  
"Derek! You okay?" Stiles asked in a hurry, helping the werewolf sit up.  
  
"I'm fine." Derek grunted a little and rolled his shoulders. "What the hell was that, Stiles?"  
  
"...Well, definitely not a human nor werewolf-"  
  
Derek gave him a look. "Stiles."  
  
The said male sighed. "I don't know, okay? _I don't know!_ I don't know what the fuck happened so stop looking at me like that!"   
  
"Instead of arguing, we should focus on getting everyone out of here and back to safety." Boyd countered. Stiles exhaled and got up with a small shake of his head before he ran over to help pick up Allison, one cliche question haunting his mind.  
  
Out of all the people, why did it choose _him_?  
  
The ride back to Derek's was silent and tense. No one really spoke a word. Whenever someone did, it was either Lydia complaining, Jackson telling her to shut up, or Scott saying that he could move his toes. Stiles held open the door as Erica carried Allison in followed by Boyd carrying Lydia followed by Isaac carrying Jackson then Derek carrying Scott. They were all placed on the couch as Erica and Boyd sat down on the love seat.  
  
"Okay, well," Jackson was the first to break the silence. "is anyone else confused as hell?"  
  
"I'm pretty sure we all are." Allison remarked.  
  
"Stiles." Lydia called out and all eyes turned to him. "What happened?"  
  
Stiles was _offended_. "Why the hell are you looking at me like I'm at fault here?"  
  
"Well, maybe if you had said _something_ when the kanima appeared, we could have had a 5 second stance to get ready." Jackson mocked. Oh, Stiles just wants to rip his eye sockets out.  
  
"I tried to tell you guys but you wouldn't listen to me!" He defended.  
  
"That's not even the point." Scott dismissed. "Why the hell was the thing looking so intently at you for that long?"  
  
Stiles felt like ripping his fucking hair out. "I don't know."  
  
"It looked like it was fucking studying him for God's sake. Not studying as in deciding it wants to kill him but studying as in... as in it recognizes him." Allison observed after a small gasp of realization.  
  
"Did you recognize it?" Derek asked.   
  
Stiles began to rub his chin. "I mean, now that I think about it, it looked like my pet dog."  
  
" _Stiles._ " Derek growled and stepped forward.  
  
"Stiles, this is serious." Scott reminded. "Do you know why the kanima didn't harm you?"  
  
The male exhaled and ran his fingers through his hair. "I don't know that— _how would I know that?!_ "  
  
"To me, it looks like you know _exactly_ what the hell happened! Like _you're_ its master." Jackson hissed. Stiles froze, bewildered.  
  
"Jackson, don't be ridiculous." Erica scowled.  
  
"You think... You think I'm—you actually think, for a second, that I'm... that _I_ am its master?" Stiles stammered, eyes wide as he pointed to himself. "Are you—are you fucking kidding me right now?"  
  
Allison sighed. "Stiles, don't listen to him. Jackson is just being Jackson."  
  
Even Derek scoffed. "Even I admit that the idea of Stiles, skinny defenseless Stiles, is the master of the kanima." He joined, folding his arms across his chest. Holy biceps—no, _bad Stiles_ , this is the not the time.  
  
"Yeah, that's exactly what you said when he got possessed by the nogistune." Jackson raised an eyebrow at him and Derek frowned. "Think about it!" He barked. "He didn't even warn us when the kanima showed up—"  
  
"—Actually I did but you guys ignored me—"  
  
"—and the kanima didn't even lay a god damn hand on him. Even if he isn't its master, it's suspicious."  
  
Isaac licked his lips and broke the beat of silence. "Stiles." He spoke and approached the shook male, putting a hand on his shoulder and frowning at the small jolt. "This is a little... odd. But we're not against you—"  
  
"Don't lie to me." Stiles seethed, shrugging his shoulder away. "You all are against me. I can see it in your fucking eyes. You know... you know even if I wanted to, I could go _on and on_ about how I have nothing to do with that god damn lizard but I don't even see why I bother to—none of you would really believe me anyways. In fact, it fucking baffles me that you Scott—my _best fucking friend_ , are sitting there silently and agree with Jackson. No, don't even think about it. _Let. Me. Talk._ " Stiles had held his hand up when Scott opened his mouth. "...After what happened with the nogistune, I thought my friends would be a little more in tune with our friendship and learn to trust me more but no... no clearly, I was wrong so... I see no need on me being here."  
  
Erica stood. "Stiles—"  
  
"No." He held up a hand, halfway towards the door. "I made a mistake thinking I was fit enough to be pack with you guys... It's clear none of you need me or want me around, or even think I'm useful. You always yell at me for getting in the way or doing stupid shit or doing things you tell me not to do but—honestly, what the fuck do you expect me to do?!" He yelled, fists shaking in anger. "You are so fucking fantastic in everything you do and I'm just _me_! I'm just skinny, defenseless Stiles with no werewolf powers, no super senses, no claws—I have fucking nothing to offer to the table except for witty comments and sarcastic humor!!" His heart was both palpitating and pounding in his chest and his lungs squeezed with every breathe he took in and he was shaking so bad, it was like he was a leaf in the merciless wind; and that's exactly what he felt like. "I'm fucking useless and I have no reason to be around, not like I'm wanted here anyways. So you guys figure this shit out without me." By the time he left the building, ignoring their lack of calls for him, he was head first in the biggest panic attack he's ever had. Driving with it still occurring—tears pouring down his cheeks, lungs reluctant on getting air in, and shaking so bad that he nearly drove head on into oncoming traffic 10 times—wasn't easy either.  
  
"Hey, I bought the movie you talked about earli—Stiles? Stiles, hey- you okay?" He could hear his father speaking to him but it was if he was underwater; everything so muffled out. And he just wanted to be alone—Stiles needed to be _alone_. So he ran up the stairs to his room, tumbling a little every two steps, and shut the door behind him with the finality of locking it. Stiles had just managed to collapse on to his bed when his panic attack got a little worse, the demons in his head swarming around him and cackling loudly. He could feel his phone going off in his pocket—various dings signalling text messages and he swore he heard his ring tone for the 52nd time. Annoyed, he yanked his phone out—22 missed calls from Scott, 4 missed calls from Lydia, 3 missed calls from Allison, 1 missed call from Jackson, 8 missed calls from Erica, and 32 unread text messages _oh sweet baby jesus_ \--and turned it off before tossing it to the floor.  
  
He couldn't calm himself down. He tried counting his fingers, counting in his head, taking deep breathes, but nothing had worked. All of his pent up emotions had escaped him unintentionally back there and he thought he was ready to let it all out but he wasn't.  
  
Honestly, he couldn't believe what had just happened. His friends had the idea that was ordering a fucking snake lizard type thing around and having it kill innocent people, all because the kanima didn't harm him. It's like they have no faith in him whatsoever. And the whole thing with the nogistune, have they forgotten that _hell hole_ happened 4 months ago? Stiles still has nightmares, still has this overwhelming fear and anxiety that he'll wake up one day and see himself grinning sinisterly at him from his desk. He dreams of himself getting tortured by himself, of him torturing his friends or killing them. He dreams of getting dragged down to hell and all he could do was vainly try to grab a hold of things and kick and scream and cry. He'd wake up screaming every night and he felt so bad for his father because for the first month, the Sheriff even decided to take refuge in his room just so he could reach his son faster and calm him down from the nightmare.  
  
Stiles was nowhere near okay. He was nowhere near normal. Nogitsune had fucking him up mentally and he's a little better, he's getting there thanks to therapy, but there are several moments where he can feel himself slipping.  
  
Stiles doesn't even remember falling asleep. Maybe he had eventually passed out from hyperventilating so much. But one thing's for sure, he could eat a cow and then some he was so hungry.  
  
With a grumbling stomach, he tentatively opened his door and looked down the hallway both ways; trying to see if his father was still home or not. He really didn't want his father to see him such a state; his eyes are probably red, cheeks a little swollen and stained with dry tears, hair all messy and shit. He looked and felt like a mess.  
  
An _ugly_ , _useless_ mess.  
  
When he made it down the stairs, he was relieved that his father wasn't home. The time on the microwave said 6:52am. School starts in about an hour but Stiles really doesn't feel up going. He really just... wants to disappear.

_Maybe that's for the best._

Searching through the fridge, he found a box of leftover pizza from the other night and gleefully snatched it. Groaning in delight when he saw 3 slices left, he quickly began heating them up in the microwave as he snatched a Pepsi from the fridge. While the food was busy heating up, Stiles trudged into the living room and grabbed the TV remote. Flipping the screen on, he scanned through the channels before eventually taking comfort on the Travel Channel. Ghost Adventures was on. The microwave beeped to signal the food was done but he took a quick sip of the brisk soda before shuffling back into the kitchen to receive his food. Plopping down on the couch, his eyes stared at the screen but his mind was elsewhere. He wondered if his friends would even miss him if he was gone. Would they even notice? Would even try to look for him?

_Probably not._

3 slices of pizza stuffed happily into his stomach along with a full can of Pepsi, 2 more episodes of Ghost Adventures later, Stiles could feel himself drifting off as he laid comfortably on the cushions. He didn't know why he felt so tired. Maybe his mental exhaustion was soon becoming his physical exhaustion. That _or_ he has crippling depression.  
  
Stiles jolted ungracefully, all limbs and flailing, as he heard a loud bang from upstairs. The sound startled him so much that he actually managed to jump up off of the couch before he shot back up, eyes wide in alarm. He stared at the staircase leading upstairs quizzingly. Was his dad actually home and fell out of bed? Deciding to check for himself, he began walking up the stairs with a small huff as he rubbed his fully stomach. He found the familiar door that lead to his father's room and walked over to it.  
  
"Dad? Are you up?" He called out. Silence. Did he fall back asleep? Stiles sighed and knocked on the door. "Dad, wake up. You should have been to work like an hour ago... Dad, come on. Alright, I'm coming in." But once he opened the door, he paused a little. The room was empty. His dad wasn't home. Dread began to seep through his veins as he frowned, eyebrows scrunching in confusion. The hairs on the pack of his neck stood up as he suddenly heard some shuffling around from behind him. Slowly, he turned around and the only thing he saw behind him was his own bedroom doorway. The door was ajar. Swallowing thickly, he gathered his courage—and mainly because his fucking phone is still in his room and that's his only chance of calling 911 if there's a _murderer_ in the house—he walked towards his door and opened it slowly.  
  
"...H-Hello?" Stiles stuttered. When he got silence as his answer, he took a hesitant step into his room before he noticed something. His window was open and his computer desk below it had completely toppled over. Frowning on confusion, he quickly marched over to the window and closed it, locking it, before shutting the curtains.  
  
"How the hell did this thing just topple over?" He muttered to himself as he began to set up. Only, he missed one thing; the figure looming behind him, behind the door. Green scales. Large claws and a tail slowly slowly swaying. Yellow cat-like eyes that watching Stiles' every movement in silence before it reached up so slowly begin shutting the door while Stiles remained oblivious, heaving his heavy dusk upright. Only when he heard the click of the door closing did he freeze completely. His heart accelerated in his chest and he could feel his fingers tremble as he gripped on to his chair. With a gulp, he slowly pulled his chair up and set it neatly near his desk.  
  
"If you're a murderer, you've come the wrong house." Stiles commented. "Son of the sheriff." But there was no reply. "Okay, burglar maybe? Nice try but.. There's hardly anything of worth in this house."  
  
"I can think of one thing." A voice spoke and Stiles' knees nearly buckled in terror. The voice was torn between two different voices; almost animalistic and another voice, sounded almost feminine. But before Stiles could even turn around or say a word, something had wrapped around his throat and he was slammed into the wall. Choking and realizing it was the fucking kanima in front of him, he clawed at the tail around his neck as his eyes widened. The kanima shifted closer, head tilting to the side.  
  
" _You._ "

* * *

"Has anybody even thought about getting a hold of Sheriff Stilinski?" Allison groaned. "Maybe _he_ knows where Stiles is."  
  
"Should we head to the station then?" Scott asked as he stuffed his things into the book-bag. School had just ended and they're all preparing to head home. Stiles wasn't answering his phone—it was going straight to voicemail—and he didn't show up to school either.  
  
Lydia nodded, her pretty eyebrows furrowed in silent concern. "Let's go. Are you coming, Jackson?" With a scoff, Jackson shook his head and pointed to the book that he was still studying. Lydia rolled her eyes with a 'shows how much you care' under her breathe before she joined the couple. Allison and Scott drove together in her car while Lydia drover her own to the station. Once inside, they headed to the front desk and asked for permission to see Sheriff Stilinski. The female officer smiled at them, recognizing them as Stiles' friends, and buzzed them into the Sheriff's office.  
  
"Oh, hey." Sheriff Stilinski greeted upon looking up from the files splayed out on his desk. "What's up? Just got out of school?"  
  
"Yeah. We were wondering if you've heard or seen Stiles lately." Scott wondered.  
  
The sheriff pauses briefly before he grabs his phone. "Actually, no. He came home in such a... rough state last night." He wasn't looking up but if he was, he'd notice the stiff glances the 3 of them shared with each other. "He wouldn't come down from his room or say anything. I don't have any texts or calls from him either. Why? Did he not show up for school?"  
  
"No." Lydia answered after a beat of silence. "We were... worried he'd be sick or something."  
  
"Odd." Noah hummed and leaned back in his chair. "Stiles is rarely ever sick. But, I can see you concern. Unfortunately, I can't leave my post right now. There was a kanima sighting last night around 3am and it killed the owner of a rental shop down the road... But here," he shifted into his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, tossing them to Scott. "The key with the red dot on it is the key to the front door. You're more than welcome to stop by the house and check on him. Give me an update when you find him, okay?"  
  
Scott smiled gratefully. "Thanks, Sheriff. Give us an update on the victim, too?" He requested. Noah seemed a little torn but he eventually exhaled and nodded, batting them away with a wave of his hand before he returned to work.  
  
"He hasn't even spoke to his dad and the last he saw Stiles was _last night_?" Lydia started as she rushed to her car. "Not. Good. Stiles never closes himself off to people, _especially_ his dad."  
  
"Even if he's feeling in some kind of mood, he always texts at least one of us to give us an update. He never leave us in the dark." Scott continued. He ran over to Allison's car and waited for her to unlock it before he opened the door.  
  
"Yeah, but after what happened last night..." Allison whispered and there was nothing else that needed to be said. Quickly, they drove a few minutes and pulled into the driveway of the Stilinski house. Basically falling out of the car, Scott rushed to the front door and quickly unlocked it with the key with the red dot on it.  
  
"Stiles?!" He called out then turned his head. The TV was still on. Allison grabbed the remote and turned it off. Lydia was the the first to run further into the house, checking every room on the first floor while Allison went downstairs into the basement. Scott jogged the stairs two at a time and went upstairs, opening every door.  
  
"Stiles, you there? C'mon, buddy. We're really worried 'bout you. We wanted to talk about yesterday." Scott stressed. Door #1: closet. Door #2: bathroom. Door #3: another closet. Door #4: it appeared to be Noah's room. Door...  
  
"Holy fuck." Scott gaped. He stood rigid in the doorway of Stiles' room and could hear footsteps rushing up the stairs.  
  
"He's not in the basement." Allison panted as he caught up to him.  
  
"Nowhere on the first floor either." Lydia informed with a defeated whine.  
  
"Guys..." Scott muttered, eyes still fixated on the destroyed room. "Look..."  
  
Allison gasped in horror. "Oh my god." She rushed into the room and looked around. "What.. What—What happened?! Where's Stiles?!" Scott spotted a cellphone and quickly rushed over it, pressing the lock button. The screen lit up and it showed that Stiles had seemingly attempted to dial 911, only able to put 91 in.  
  
"He was trying to call 911!" Scott announced. "Something happened!"  
  
"And I know just what." Lydia informed. The couple snapped their heads to the banshee, who stood staring at the window. It was not only opened but completely shattered. The banshee picked up a pen that was sitting on the desk as the pair moved closer to her in interest. She stuck the pen into a strange, clear goo-like substance and Scott's face paled.  
  
"That's..."  
  
Lydia nodded solemnly. "Yeah..."  
  
It was silent for a minute.  
  
"Lydia—"  
  
She was already one step ahead. "I'm going to pick up Jackson."  
  
"We'll meet you at Derek's." Allison agreed and they were out of the house and in their cars within 30 seconds. Allison knew she was driving over the speed limit but she didn't care—of course the cops would but there wasn't any around by the time they reached the preserve. They hightailed out of their cars and ran as fast as they could into the forest. Scott could smell that Derek was there in the house, along with the rest of the pack so he wasted no time to burst into without even knocking.  
  
"Stiles is missing." He announced, interrupting whatever conversation the other wolves had going. "He's nowhere to be found."  
  
"We checked with the sheriff." Allison continued. "Apparently, Stiles locked himself in his room yesterday when he returned home and didn't come out. He hasn't answered _any_ of our texts or calls and he hasn't even sent a text to his father. He wasn't in school today either."  
  
Scott stepped forward, looking at Derek who seemed surprised. "We got the key to their house and we checked from the basement up; every square inch. He was nowhere to be found. But when we checked his room, it looked like there was a struggle. A _hell_ of a struggle."  
  
"His window was busted and broken, like someone had—like someone actually _busted_ in or out of it." Allison panted, having to sit down in order to calm down a little. "And Lydia found kanima poison on the window."  
  
"Wait, hold on." Derek cut in, holding his hand up as he stepped forward. "Are you saying that Stiles was kidnapped by the kanima?!"  
  
"It's true!" Lydia exclaimed as she ran over to them, a shook Jackson right behind her. "It's true. We looked everywhere in the house. His window was broken, his room was a mess, and there was kanima poison all over his window. Scott found his phone and he apparently tried to dial 911."  
  
Derek inhaled through his nose to keep his inner wolf at bay. "Now before you even bother going on saying that this may be a trap," he side-eyed Jackson. "let's go on and say he's actually been kidnapped. Where do we even start looking?"  
  
"How about the factory that we went to yesterday?" Scott offered.  
  
Boyd shook his head. "I highly doubt the kanima would be dumb enough to go to a place where we know the location of."  
  
"I don't mean to add insult to injury but we don't even know who the kanima is in the first place!" Jackson guffawed. "Or if it has master! The only thing we know is that it's been killing people and now it suddenly has heart eyes for Stiles!"  
  
Derek growled, eyes flashing red. "It does not have _heart eyes_ for Stiles." He hissed (Scott took the mental note to tease Derek about being possessive over Stiles later) "But Scott may be right; the factory may not be the place where it is but it is the last known location of where the kanima was seen so we might find some clues there."  
  
"Actually, the factory is the last place you saw the kanima." A voice joined in and everyone whipped around. Derek immediately straightened at the sight of Christ Argent stepping through the threshold. _Alone_.  
  
"Dad?!" Allison shrieked. "What the hell--"  
  
"Don't fret." The argent assured, sending a pointed look to Boyd and Erica. "I am not here to start a war. I thought you'd get that idea by now."  
  
"Well, one can never be so sure." Erica hissed.  
  
"The hell are you doing here?" Derek growled, canines growing and claws sticking out.  
  
Chris raised an eyebrow. "I am merely here to help. The kanima killed one of my agents last night and we got a lead about the identity. I was originally going to form a team to chase the damn thing down until I learned that it was so bold enough to take Stiles. So I figured I'd drop by here and offer my help on this mission." Everyone exchanged looks before they all looked to Derek. "But, that is of course, up to you, Derek. You are Pack Alpha and Stiles' lover."  
  
Derek gave him a look. "I am _not_ his lover."  
  
"Yet." Jackson snorted.  
  
The alpha rolled his eyes. "Alright, what do you got?" He caved.  
  
"The last known whereabouts of the kanima was Video 2*C where it killed my agent, who was going into the store to rent a movie." Chris informed and stepped further inside, shredding himself of his jacket and setting it down on a chair. "It then disappeared behind the building and down a small alley way before slipping into a crack that leads into an active warehouse. The warehouse is mainly used for storage, not a lot of people are seen going in or out of the building. I did some digging and the owner of the warehouse is named Chris Tomlin and he is currently _600 miles away_ on a god damn yacht."  
  
Derek folds his arms across his chest. "You said you had a lead on the identity of the kanima?" He pressed.  
  
Chris pauses briefly before nodding slowly. "Do any of you recognize the name Sarah Woodard?" He asked, eyes scanning Scott and his friends.  
  
"Sarah... wait, yeah I know that name." Lydia chirped with a snap of her fingers. "She used to sit next to me in English class!"  
  
"Yeah, she was real quiet but really smart." Jackson joined, eyebrows furrowing. "She was in my Spanish class with me and we were often paired to do projects together."  
  
"Right, well, apparently, Sarah grew up in a not-so loving home. Her dad being an alcoholic and her mother being a drug dead-beat, she didn't really know what the line was between right and wrong. But, still, I guess this is not an excuse. She disappeared off of the radar a couple months ago and everyone thought her and her family moved. Wrong; she had gotten bitten by the rogue alpha before the alpha was killed and she turned into the kanima. Somehow, she learned about her newfound abilities and learned to control them after a couple of weeks in hiding. She killed her parents before she went out to kill some more people. Which leads to this; the 'random' victims were not random. They were the parents of the students who bullied her. Specifically, the parents who raised snobbish pricks and didn't really care about how their child treated other people."  
  
"But what does that have to do with Stiles?" Isaac asked.  
  
Chris clicked his tongue with a small smile, pointing a finger at him. "You're gonna love this, actually. _Stiles_ , being Stiles, was the only one who actually stood up for her whenever he saw her getting bullied. Like you, Erica, she formed a crush for him but he didn't notice because at the time, he was pining for Lydia." He chuckled as Erica and Lydia shared judging looks before they looked to Derek, who looked like he was about ready to rip someone's throat out. "She has this mindset that was similar to Allison's stalker; 'if I can't have you, no one can.' I don't think Sarah expected to run into Stiles when you guys were there are the abandoned factory but I think that when he went home that night, she may have followed him and waited until the Sheriff left for work in order to grab him."  
  
"So what are we waiting around for then?" Derek grumbled and snatched his jacket. "We need to get Stiles."  
  
" _And_ the kanima." Scott added. "We have to see if we can convince Sarah to stop her killings."  
  
"If she doesn't comply, I will warn you all now: I will not hesitate to kill her." Chris warned and held up both of his hands.  
  
Derek stared long and hard at him before his eyes flashed red. "No." He replied firmly. "You won't get a chance to kill her. I'd probably have her throat ripped out by then."

* * *

By the time Stiles came through, he took note of many disturbing things that made fear squeeze his throat. The room he was in was dark, damp and it almost looked like he was in the basement of some kind of building that produced or had many different machines - for many machines were all around him, whirring with life or silent as the night. He could hear the water from the ceiling dripping down to the floor and it was the only sound that was illuminating in the entire room--basement? Another thing, Stiles had his wrists restrained above him and he was hanging a good 5 inches off of the ground. At least he wasn't paralyzed, that he discovered when he wiggled his fingers and shifted his legs. But he did feel a heavy weight on his head and he was really dizzy, the edges of his visions were blurry. He had gotten hit on the head with something, when did that happen? Digging through his brain, he tried to recount his steps and look back in his memories. But a sharp pain would ignite in his head each time he tried to think. _Hellooooo_ concussion.  
  
"Oh, you're awake." An alarmingly calm voice startled Stiles out of his thoughts. He looked up to see a figure walking closer to him and he froze at the sight of a female approaching him. His eyebrows furrowed a little bit as he stared at her, trying to recognize her face.  
  
"Trying to remember me?" The girl sneered, a sickening smile forming on her lips. "I'll give you a hint." She approached him slowly, like a cat, until she was up in his space. Stiles gasped and jolted in his restraints as he watched her face half shift from normal into somewhat normal, if you count the scales and yellow cat like eyes.  
  
"Holy fuck—you're the—the—"  
  
"Yes." She cackled, voice torn once again as she leaned back. "I'm the kanima you and your friends were trying so hard to try to capture."  
  
"But I—I don't get it—why—are you _insane_?! Why me?!" He yelled.  
  
She tilted her head, a look of fake hurt on her face. "You mean, you don't remember me? Fine, I guess I could humor you." She sighed and began to circle him. Stiles shuddered and tried to squirm away as she ran her fingers along his torso and back.  
  
"We went to the same school." She purred. "We were in the same Chemistry, English, and History class. I sat behind you in all 3 classes, of course, but still." Stiles eyebrows furrowed a little in confusion. "I was a quiet girl, so I don't expect you to remember much about me." She circled around him once more before standing in front of him, giving a look of exasperation. "Sarah. Sarah Woodard? Does that name sound familiar?"  
  
Stiles scrunched his nose a little. "Sarah Woodard?" He echoed unsurely before shrugging. "No—I mean—no, not really." She groaned and rolled her eyes, putting her hands on her hips.  
  
"I figured as much. You were either making heart-eyes at Lydia or drooling over Derek's grumpy eyebrows." She exhaled. At Stiles' bewildered look, she snickered a little. "Why do you look so surprised? It's not like subtleness was on your side anyways."  
  
"Wait, _wait_ —hold on a holy hot second—how do you know about Derek?" He questioned.  
  
Her eyebrows shot up. "Of course I know about Derek. I know about all of your friends. Scott. Lydia. Allison. Boyd. Erica. Isaac. _Derek_. The alpha wolf that you keep jumping up to defend at _every waking second_ —yeah, yeah I know all of your love interests."  
  
"...Why does my love interests matter so much to you?"  
  
Sarah grinned and tilted her head, reaching up to grab Stiles' chin. "Because you, you blind idiot, are _my_ love interest." She admitted. Stiles' eyes went wide.  
  
"You're crazy... You're fucking crazy—do you actually think that—what? _Sherlock Syndrome_ will happen here?!" He shouted and yanked away from her touch.  
  
She frowned a little and grabbed his jaw more forcefully, kanima nails digging into his skin. "I will make you love me if it's the last thing I do." She growled. He could feel her nails pierce into his skin and hissed softly at the stinging sensation. But he couldn't feel any of the poison leaking into him. "Besides, it's not like anyone's going to come for you anyways. Oh, yeah. Yeah, I heard about your guys' _little argument_ when you went back to the Hale house. I followed you guys there. I followed you home, Stiles. I waited for the _perfect_ moment to pounce on you and, trust me, I _will_ make you mine. Even if," Sarah turned her head and seemed to signal for something, or someone. "even if I have to make you forget about him. Forget about Derek. Replace memories you have with him with memories with me."  
  
Stiles squirmed in his restraints as a buff-looking male walked forward, holding an electrocuting rod in his hand. "You're a sick fucking person." He hissed angrily before he let out a scream as the buff-male prodded him with the rod, sending painful volts of electricity throughout his body.  
  
"Take as much time as you need." Sarah muttered to the buff-male. "Do what you can. If his friends decide to show up, which I doubt they will, I will stall them. You," she turned to the male. "...if they manage to come down here before I do, you know what to do." The male nodded and Stiles could only watch her walk away before his body was shot up with electricity once again, a scream ripping from his throat. Sarah smirked as she walked away, hearing Stiles' screams echo off of the wall. She worked her way up the stairs, through a heavy metal door, through some halls and up some more stairs. She then found herself walking through a very working and very functional storage warehouse; with people walking everywhere carrying various things. She didn't bother greeting them or even looking at them, and neither did they but they seemed in-tune with her being there as they passed by, as she continued walking; small smirk still playing on her lips. Sarah eventually climbed down a small staircase, bowing her head in greeting to the guards that were keeping watch at the main entrance.  
  
"They will be here soon." She announced softly, her yellow cat like eyes scanning the outside. "They will come for him. Stall them for as long as you can. Emit will continue to torture him until there's nothing left of him."  
  
"Understood." One of the guards agreed.  
  
But one stepped forward a little bit. "But, Sarah... isn't this going a little too far? He's just a human. There are other people in the world." He reasoned, eyebrows furrowing. Sarah tilted her to the side and took a few steps closer to him.  
  
"My dear Aswald... do you dare insult me like this?" She hummed. Aswald gulped a little and shook his head quickly. "That's what I thought. I will do and confront them. When they get passed me, stall them for as long as possible." Aswald glanced over at the other guard who was quick to agree with her before Sarah walked off. With a small sigh, Aswald got back to his post with a churning feeling in his chest.

* * *

Derek remembered the first second he met Stiles. His annoying way of moving around was what had caught his eye in the first place. He was all hand movements, all limbs, bark but no bite kind of person. He cared about his friends, about everyone that he laid his trust upon, and would use witty/snarky commentary to express his 'unadulterated love' towards someone. Derek admits, he wasn't exactly the picture perfect kind of person to be around years ago when they all first met; he was cold, guarded, and self-reserved. He didn't trust anyone, much less humans. To him, they were too destructive. Scott was the only exception at first, someone that Derek found reliable and naive in the ways of the wolf. Despite using Scott for many, unkind reasons, they somehow managed to form an unshakable brotherhood. However, Scott came with the entire package (pun intended); a badass girlfriend, an insanely smart banshee, and... _Stiles_. Originally, Derek was convinced that Stiles had nothing to offer to the table, like the human had argued earlier.  
  
But he could not be as wrong as he was then as he is now.  
  
Stiles is, more than he will ever know, more than capable to be pack. Hell... he's got the mindset of an _alpha_.  
  
"You care about him." A voice rendered him out of his thoughts and he glanced up from the back seat of Jackson's Porsche, making eye contact with the kanima-werewolf hybrid that was driving.  
  
"And _you_ don't." Was Derek's flat reply.  
  
Jackson snorted a little and looked at the road. "I act like I don't." He replied, voice unusually softer. Lydia, who was sitting in the passenger seat, turned her head to look at him with a soft smile. "But I do."  
  
"Somehow, I find that hard to believe. And I bet he would too."  
  
"I don't blame either of you." Jackson chuckled. "But Stiles... Stiles is something else, lemme tell ya. We're usually at each other's throats, but... Stiles has proven to be someone I can rely on. I've often found myself unconsciously approaching him in the halls to make a conversation—or an argument, most of the time—or joining him as we walk back to the locker room after lacrosse or.. wanting to sit next to him in Chemistry just to pester the hell outta him and.. even before Scott, I never once even wanted to sit at their table but Stiles—Stiles made it _fun_. He made everything _fun_ , everything _worthwhile_. He makes everything count and he makes sure everything has a point or a reason to it. He cares more about the people around him than his own beating heart and I heard him swear with every breathe in him that he would rather take a bullet for me than let me die—THAT is what he said when he made the argument to try to save me. After he had said that, my entire mindset changed about him." Jackson pauses briefly and Derek saw his eyes hardening. "And that bitch dare to even lay a finger on him like this? No offense, Derek, but me and you will have to fight."  
  
"Over what?"  
  
Jackson raised his eyes and looked up at him through the mirror. "Over who gets the _privilege_ to rip her throat out."  
  
Lydia smiles more and turns around in her seat to face Derek. "Just tell him, Derek." She encouraged. Derek raised an eyebrow at her. "Oh, don't look at me like that. We've all been watching you two dance around each other for a while now. It's getting old."  
  
"I don't want anything to happen to our friendship." Derek muttered and lowered his gaze.  
  
"You think he won't accept you?" Jackson let out a 'ha!' in mockery. "Jesus, if I could punch you in your grumpy wolf face I would, you're so blind."  
  
"You love him, Derek." Lydia whispered. Derek flicked his eyes up to the banshee.  
  
"...Everyone that I've ever loved is dead." He mourned.  
  
The banshee smiles softly at him before reaching over, taking one of Derek's hands in her and seemingly placing something in the flat of his palm. "Not this time. None of us will let Stiles die."  
  
"That's a promise." Jackson joined. "We will slaughter anyone who even thinks they could."  
  
Lydia smiled at the alpha. "So let's go rescue your mate." She giggled softly. Derek opened his mouth to argue with her but found himself clamping his mouth shut. With a small furrow in his brow, he looked down into his palm and found a photo strip of Stiles. Picking it up with ginger fingers, he held it closer for further examination. Stiles was sitting in front of whoever had taken the picture. Their location was obviously a library, given to the rows and rows of books that were behind him, along with the tables that were occupied by other students. But Stiles stood out among the other faces in the background. The first image had was him having a book open in front of him, a notebook to the side of the book and a green highlighter in one hand, a ballpoint pen in the other. The hand with the highlighter was down on the table, the end of the highlighter was holding down the pages of the book so it didn't slip closed on him. His other hand, with the pen, was raised towards his mouth; the cap pressing against the pink flesh of his bottom lip. His eyes were downcast, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he reads. The second photo was similar to the first, only Stiles had his eyes raised and he had noticed the camera; beautiful hazel eyes slightly wide in surprise and his kissable bow lips parting a little bit. The third and final photo was Derek's favorite; Stiles had lowered his pen away from his lips, his elbow now resting on the table, and his lips were curled up into a wide smile—the photo capturing him mid-laugh.  
  
 _He's so beautiful._  
  
Jackson groaned a little. "Excuse me, but save the lovey-dovey shit for _after_ we rescue him, please." He pleaded.  
  
Derek paused. "I said that out-loud." He stated flatly, surprised with him self, and Lydia laughs.  
  
"You did. But you're right; he is a beautiful person. We all act like little shits to him, and him back to us, but we all deeply care for him. He's the light of our lives. If it wasn't for Stiles, then I'm pretty sure I wouldn't be who I am today; a better person." She confessed with a thoughtful smile. As Derek looked down at the image on more time, he smiled softly to him self and reached into the inside of his leather jacket, where a hidden pouch was located. He unzipped the pouch the placed the photo strip in it before zipping it back up.  
  
"Thank you." He murmured. Lydia smiled in return while Jackson grunted. They drove for a few more minutes before they eventually pulled up to a curb. Derek leaned forward in his seat, peeking in between the driver and the passenger seat to get a view of what was down the street.  
  
"This is the warehouse Chris spoke of?" He asked.  
  
Jackson nodded and shut off the car. "Yup." He popped the 'p'. "Are the others here?" Lydia looked into the mirror and nodded. "Alright. Game time." They all climbed out of the car and waited patiently for the others to come join them.  
  
"Alright," Chris began as he checked the ammo in his pistol. "I was correct; the warehouse is fully functioning. But I guarantee you they're actually with Sarah. I'm assuming she might send someone out to serve as bait to stall us. So we might have to separate to get to Stiles quicker."  
  
"I'm going." Derek firmly stated.  
  
"I figured as much." Chris raised his eyebrows and tossed him a gun. "You might need this. This isn't exactly a good place to go all werewolf mode. We're still in public but once you get down to the basement, if there's any threats still there, do not hesitate to bring out your claws and fangs. _God_ , I can't believe I'm actually saying that."  
  
Allison laughed and kissed her father on the cheek. "You're doing great, dad." She replied cheekily. Chris rolled his eyes but a small, fond smile played on his lips.  
  
"You won't get to him in time." A voice sang out and they all whipped around to find Sarah standing in front of them with her arms across her chest. Derek growled and stepped forward. "Oh, stop huffing and puffing—you won't blow me down so easily like that, sourwolf."  
  
"Only Stiles has the privilege to call me that." Derek hissed. " _You_ have no right."  
  
"I have every right!" Sarah snapped, voice booming in anger. "He never once even looked my way or spoke my name!! Too busy chasing after a bitch—"  
  
"—Hey!" Lydia squawked.  
  
"—who paid no mind to him!" Sarah continued, ignoring the banshee's glare. "And then he's going off, chasing you! _Big bad alpha_ who thinks he's got it tough because his family died in a fire." She was provoking him, Derek knew that but he couldn't risk biting the bait. "None of you deserve his love. His love is for me and me only and I will not stand here and make a petty argument with you! He is _mine_!" Her eyes morphed into yellow and cat-like. "Do you hear me?! Stiles Stilinski is—" _Bang_. They all jolted a little and turned around to look at Chris Argent, who was still aiming his pistol.  
  
"What?" Chris perked an eyebrow. "She was pissing me off." He scoffed.  
  
"You do know that she'll just recover, right?" Scott pointed out as Sarah's body crumbled to the ground.  
  
"Nah, she won't." Chris scoffed and put his pistol back in its holster. "Specialized bullets. I created them after we battled you, Jackson, when you were still full kanima. It's got a special poison in it that leaks into the bloodstreams and stops the heart within seconds."  
  
Derek hummed a little and stepped forward to observe Sarah; it didn't seem like she was going to heal. "Well, just to make sure she _stays_ dead..." He aimed his pistol and fired a total of 3 more times into her body before making a small hum of finality then walking off. They all exchanged looks before jogging to catch up with the alpha. Once they got close enough to the warehouse, a guard had spotted them and immediately rang the alarm. They had to quickly hide in order to avoid the rays of bullets heading their way.  
  
"Remind me again why I can't go werewolf?!" Boyd yelled over the gunshots.  
  
"Because there's still residents along the street! They'll be shocked to hear gunshots but the last we need is a riot when they see a _wolf_ barrelling through! And then it won't just be hunters on your ass, it'll be the entire fucking town!" Chris argued. Derek growled in frustration, knowing that the male was right. He looked around to try to find an vantage point, the need to get to Stiles was growing heavier and heavier. Behind the group of guards that were shooting at them was an opening, a reasonable gap to slip past them and into the warehouse. But he'd had to get close without getting seen.  
  
"Cover me." Derek muttered to Scott before handing him the pistol. Scott seem puzzled for a moment but he took the weapon anyways, watching Derek scamper off to hide behind a car. He waited for a few moments before dashing out from behind the car and hiding behind a concrete barrier; he was getting closer to the gap. And as he was about to make a break for it, one of the guards spotted him and yelled 'hey!' before aiming their gun at him. Derek froze for a second but then the guard was on the ground the next second with a bullet through the middle of his forehead. Grinning a little to himself, Derek dashed out from behind the barrier and was able to slip behind the other guards unnoticed. Once inside, he ran further into the building and looked around—trying to figure out where Stiles could possibly be. He spotted a desk with what seemed to be a map on it and dashed over to it, his eyebrows furrowing as he saw the landscape of the warehouse drawn on it. It had 4 levels and Derek didn't have time to play a guessing game. So he closed his eyes, inhaled through his nose, and concentrated; his mind flowing through the halls of the warehouse. He could hear the familiar heart beat, however it was slowing down little by little. He had to hurry.  
  
"Hey! You!" Someone yelled. Derek's eyes—now bleeding red—snapped open and he turned around as a guard approached him with his gun raised. "What do you think you're doing?!"  
  
"Finding my mate." Derek growled and began to stomp over to him. "And you're getting in my way." Derek could smell the fear off of him as the guard froze and he used that second to launch at him. With an angry yell, Derek knocked the gun out of his grip before wrapping his hand around the guard's throat.  
  
" _Where. Is. My. Mate?_ " Derek demanded in a predatory hiss as he drew his face closer to the choking guard. "You're keeping him in the basement aren't you?" Wanting to keep his life still in tact, the guard nodded quickly and took one of his hands off of Derek's wrist to shakily point towards a large, metal door. With a hum of satisfaction, he easily snapped the guard's neck and let him crumble to the floor. He wasted no time to run towards the door, practically rip it off of its hinges, and bolt down the stairs. As he ran down the corridor, he was eventually faced with a two way hallway; left or right. He looked back and forth between the two hallways before his head snapped to the right as he heard a scream echo off of the walls. Derek then took off down the hall and launched himself down some stairs before he eventually caught whiff of the metallic scent of blood and fear. Stiles.  
  
"You're definitely not going to break so easily huh?" Emit hummed as he observed the human. "How interesting." Stiles was barely holding onto consciousness but he could hear the loud rushed footsteps coming towards them. He blacked out a couple of times but would awake seconds later, seeing a figure with red eyes and long claws having a scuffle with Emit.  
  
"Derek.." Stiles murmured weakly, his eyes slipping closed. The last thing he remembered was feeling a pair of large, warm hands cupping his cheeks and a soft voice lulling him; telling him that it's okay, that he's safe.  
  
He didn't know how long he'd been out, but apparently it was long enough because when he woke, the first thing he saw was his father weeping at his bedside. Stiles didn't remember how long it's been since he's hugged his father this tight before. It felt foreign at first, the sheriff hardly ever expresses his real emotions and if he does, he does it in fragments.  
  
"I'm so glad you're okay." His father sniffled, running his fingers soothingly through Stiles' hair. "I was so—I was so fucking worried, kid."  
  
Stiles hummed softly, still feeling woozy. "What's the damage..?" He asked.  
  
The sheriff inhaled as he leaned back in his seat. "Serious concussion, 5 broken ribs, a ruptured lung, severe bruising along the torso, and because of the shackles being too tight and you being too squirmish, the skin on your wrists are in bad shape." He listed off.  
  
"...I suppose it would be worse." Stiles shrugged a little and glanced at his father, who was looking at him with a certain glint in his eye and Stiles seemed to gather the unspoken questions spinning around in his head. "Dad—"  
  
"—What the fuck happened, Stiles?" Noah exhaled, eyes never leaving his son. "Why did you come that day in such a state? Why did you shut yourself off from everyone? What happened?"  
  
Stiles sighed a little, wincing at the pain in his ribs. "Well... I had a falling out with the pack and kicked myself out of it. I figured they didn't want or need skinny defenseless Stiles anymore because I supposedly get in the way all the time, so.." He shrugged and idly picked at a piece of string that was sticking out from the blanket that was laid on him. "I just.. I just wanted to be alone, dad, that's all. And the whole thing with her—Sarah, if I remember correctly—was that she was obsessed with me. She was angry that I never looked at her and instead liked Lydia before.. before, uh, moving on.. to someone else and uh.. yeah, she got psychotic and stuff."  
  
Noah shook his head a little. "You're an idiot for one, kid; the pack definitely wants and needs you around." He stood up from his chair and walked over to the window, deciding it was too chilly for it to be open anymore. "It was them that came to save your ass. Second, I know it's Derek that you have the hots for."  
  
"But—"  
  
"Stiles." Noah groaned then turned to face his son. "Stop being so stubborn.. I know it sucks because you're not like them and I get that you feel insecure about that but that _doesn't_ mean they don't want you around and that you're useless, you hear?" With a swallow, Stiles nodded slowly and lowered his eyes. "...Alright, now that you're awake, I guess I should notify your friends. They've been here all weekend."  
  
Stiles' head shot up in alarm. "I've been out for 2 days?!" He exclaimed.  
  
"3 days, actually." Noah corrected as he walked out of the room. Stiles whined a little and leaned his head back against the pillow, eyes closing momentarily. A few seconds later, he could hear the rushed scuffling outside in the hallway before he saw his friends piling into the room; all equipped with teary eyes.  
  
"Stiles!" All, if not some, yelled in unison as they immediately crowded his bed. Erica was the first to jump on to it, burrowing herself into Stiles with a small sob. Stiles winced at the pain and gently tapped her shoulder, in which he was quick to sit up and give him an apology before hugging his head. He rested his head against Erica's shoulder and closed his eyes, his eyebrows furrowing as he could feel himself choke up. Scott was at his left side saying things like 'I'm so glad you're okay' and 'how are you feeling?' before Stiles ended up lifting one of his arms to give his friend a one-armed hug while Allison did the same to his left side. Erica finally let go of Stiles' head and cupped his face in his hands.  
  
"She did a number on ya.." The beta said quietly as she examined Stiles' cut lip, a huge scrap on his cheek bone, a cut on his eyebrow, and a gash that was stitched closed on his forehead. "Oh my god.."  
  
"I'll be fine." Stiles croaked. Allison pulled away from his hug and held one of Stiles' hand in both of her own, thumb running worriedly over his knuckles.  
  
"God, even I missed ya." Jackson huffed as he approached Stiles' bed. With a small laugh, Stiles removed his arm from around Scott to give the kanima-werewolf hybrid a hug as well.  
  
"Good to see you, asswipe." He greeted.  
  
"Good to see you holding together, dickcheese." Jackson retorted as he pulled away. The banshee was next to mercifully throw herself against Stiles, who grunted in pain, but made no effort to push her off of his chest as he sobbed into his hospital gown.  
  
"Lydia." Stiles began running his fingers through her strawberry blonde hair. "I'm fine.. I'll be alright."  
  
"I know that, I know—I really do, b-but.." She weeped as she curled her hands into his shirt, gripping with all her might. "Fuck, Stiles, we're such horrible excuses of friends.. Y-You were right! I-I mean.. a-after the nogistune, we w-weren't exactly there f-for you.. A-And you had to d-deal with the _nightmares_ a-and everything else on your own! W-We doubted you.. W-We mocked you.. I'm so so-sorry, Stiles—I'm so—so so sorry.." Stiles' heart broke at the sound of her sobbing and squeezed his eyes shut while he continued to run his fingers through her hair.  
  
"We all are sorry.." Boyd murmured. "We didn't mean to hurt you, Stiles."   
  
Stiles opened his eyes and looked up. "It's okay.." He reassured. Scott opened his mouth to protest but Stiles beat him to it. "Guys, seriously—it's okay. I admit, I.. I over-reacted I suppose.. I was being a little more dramatic than I should have been."  
  
"You're not Stiles if you're not dramatic." Derek stepped forward, leather jacket held in one hand while the other was in his pocket. "You've always had that... dramatic flair you carried with you."  
  
The human laughed quietly. "Yeah, I suppose you're right." Lydia sniffed and lifted herself slowly off of Stiles, who reached up to wipe away her tears and fix her smudged make-up a little with his thumb. "I haven't seen you cry this hard since the Titanic."  
  
Lydia huffed out a laugh and weakly smacked his shoulder. "Shut it." She mumbled then climbed off of the bed and into Jackson's arms. There was a beat of hovering silence and everyone seemed to take a glance at Derek before announcing that they'll be heading back home for some sleep or food.  
  
"I'll be back in the morning with Allison." Scott promised, giving Stiles' hand a tight squeeze. Stiles smiled softly at him as Allison kissed his cheek.  
  
"I've got some errands to do for my parents in the morning but I'll visit after." Jackson raised his hand and hi-fived him. "Cya later, nimrod." Lydia offered Stiles a shaky smile before she joined her boyfriend's side and eventually everyone had left the room. All except Derek.  
  
"Shouldn't you get back home for some sleep or something?" Stiles asked. Derek walked over to a chair and place his jacket on the back of it before he began walking over to the bed.  
  
"Well, as you would say," Derek hummed and sat down on the bed, eyes uncharacteristically soft. "Sleep is the weak."  
  
Stiles laughed. "I see you've been picking up on my charm." He teased.  
  
The wolf chuckled quietly and reached up, taking Stiles' broken wrist in his hand while he ran his other hand slowly along the bandages around his wrists.  
  
"I've always been picking up your charm." He admitted softly, eyes downcast. Stiles furrowed his eyebrows as he watched the werewolf study his cast, the silence becoming a little heavy. And he wasn't a werewolf, he didn't have any 'werewolf-y senses' but he could tell something was definitely bothering the alpha.  
  
"Derek." He called out, managing to move his fingers and hold his hand. "What's wrong..?" Derek remained silent for the most part as his eyes were locked on their joined hands. " _Derek._ "  
  
The alpha sighed and closed his eyes. "I just.. I'm a shitty alpha."  
  
"Derek—come on—"  
  
"—No, Stiles. I _am_." Derek opened his eyes and looked up at him. "You saw how I was in the beginning. I was practically heartless. I don't pay close enough attention to my pack and that results on them getting hurt. But I just.. I wasn't ready for.. for—for _this_."  
  
Stiles frowned in confusion. "What do you mean?" He whispered.  
  
"...I wasn't ready for you getting hurt, Stiles. I always tried to keep you at a distance; I was trying to protect you. I knew I wasn't exactly on the good side of Mr. Argent so I didn't want to drag you down with me or risk you getting hurt because of me." Derek started and lowered his gaze once more. "I've felt this way for a while. In the beginning, yeah—you annoyed the hell out of me. You never shut up, not even once, and I wanted to throw you across the room.. But.. you grew on me. I began to enjoy the loudness you brought, the sarcastic bickering you ignited everywhere you went. You.. You made the house feel like _home_ again, Stiles. You reminded me what it's like.. to be _human_." Derek pauses briefly as Stiles shifted, letting out a small cry of pain. With a frown of both guilty and worry, he put his hand on Stiles' cheek to try to get him to stop moving so much. "I never wanted anything to happen to you.. The fragility of humans is beyond me.. You break so easily and I just.. I didn't want to get attached to you too much in fear that if I lost you then I'd.. then it'd be the end of me. I've lost too many people, Stiles. And I don't want to loose you too."  
  
"Derek.. are you—what exactly are you.. trying to convey here..?" Stiles gasped softly.  
  
The alpha's eyes softened even more as he caressed Stiles' cheek. "... What I'm trying to say, Stiles, is.. is that I've fallen in love with you." He confessed. Stiles' eyes widened. "Your sarcasitc attitude. Your witty comments. Your moles, your soft creamy skin, your whisky brown eyes, and the way the sun or the moon highlights your every feature takes my breath away.. You've unlocked something in me, Stiles.. Something I've sworn to never open up for a long time. I don't.. I don't expect an answer, but.. you're my _mate_ , Stiles. My wolf—it chose you. It chose you, okay? So.. I can't loose you. You can't die—I _won't_ let you die. I'll protect you with every breathe I have left in me." Stiles let out a breathe and could feel the tears roll down his cheeks. "You're beautiful, Stiles.. You're beautiful and you're important and you have meaning, okay..? You do so please stop thinking so low of yourself."  
  
"Derek.." Stiles tried to find words to try to say but he was too speechless, too caught off-guard to find any of the right words. Derek reached up and let his fingertips glide along the soft skin of Stiles' cheek, jaw, before they slowly traced the outline of his bottom lip.  
  
"You're.. You're the most beautiful person I've ever seen." Derek whispered, voice so low that Stiles could barely make out a single word. "And I'd be damned if I let you go.."  
  
Stiles was silent for a while, tears pouring down his cheeks. "Hey.." He swallowed thickly and took a breathe. "You know if—if that was some kind of.. I dunno—if that was some kind of love confession then.. _to hell with it_ —I've loved you since the second I saw you." He confessed. Derek's eyes flicked up to Stiles'. "I've.. You've been on my mind nonstop and I just—I just.. I just love you so fucking much I—"  
  
"Hey." Derek cut in softly and shifted closer. "It's okay.. I get it." Stiles let out a shaky breathe, eyes still brimming with tears. "Why do you think I was so persistent to get to you as soon as possible..? Why do you think I've done so much to protect you? Do you think I only acted that way just to have Scott apart of my pack? Originally, yes; I pretended to care for his friends in order to try to earn his brotherhood. But the more I spent around his friends, the more time I spent around _you_ , I soon realized that Scott already had his own pack. Sure, he has Allison and Lydia and Jackson but _you_? No, you—Stiles, you're his _best friend_. The sole person who covered for his sorry ass years ago when you'd find yourselves in some deep levels of trouble, the sole person who came up with idea after idea after idea to protect him and to save others. Me.. No, I'll never be apart of his pack—"  
  
"—You are." Stiles spoke and shook his head a little, squeezing the hand that wasn't still cupping his cheek. "After what you did for him today..? _Rescuing me_..? I can see that you're now his pack, I can see it in his eyes when he looks at you. Isaac, Boyd, Erica—you are all in his pack.. But me..? No, I.. I don't belong in it—I just—I'm just a human. I can only take so much until I've had enough a-and I.. I have no right to be in a pack full of amazing people when all I do is—is get in the way."  
  
Derek glared a little at him. "Stop that, Stiles. Stop that _right now_.. You may be human but you've paved the road into being a hero. You've helped save so many lives, do you understand that? When everyone had ideas to kill, you came up with ideas to _save_. You're a thinker, a believer, a motivator, a lifesaver, one _hell_ of a best friend.. and.. Stiles, you're not just my mate but you're my spark. You're what gives me strength to carry on, you give me strength to believe in things again—to stand here and continue fighting for the people I care about. You, Stiles, are _pack_. You are _my_ pack. You are _my_ mate, _my_ spark. So you can sit there and say that you're not amazing all you want but I can also sit here and argue with you about it. Stiles, do you realize just how fucking smart you are?!" Stiles' eyebrows furrowed as he listened to Derek speak, more tears pouring down your cheeks. "You come up with ideas within seconds and for the love of—all of your ideas work! Stiles, each one of them works! You're unpredictable but that's you're advantage! You're a trickster, a prankster, and you take matters in your own hands. You may not heal as quickly as I do.. you don't have fangs, claws or—or glowing red eyes but you _do_ have many other things. Determination. Loyalty. Passion. Drive. Humility. Compassion. Reliability. Bravery. _Humanity_. You.. You are more important to all of us than anything else in the world—why else would we join together like this to rescue your sarcastic ass?" Stiles huffed out a laugh and shook his head a little as he lowered his gaze. "You are perfect the way you are. Don't try to change that, okay?" The human nodded softly and sniffled before he peered up at him.  
  
"I'm a little cold.." He murmured after a moment. Derek searched between Stiles' eyes before he leaned back and took a second to take off his shoes as he watched the human carefully shift over to the side to make more room. Derek grabbed the blanket and lifted it up, climbing on to the bed and slipping one of his arms underneath Stiles' neck. Stiles shifted a little closer and hissed softly in pain, making Derek turn his head to look at him. Stiles had on his hand on his ribs, face in a grimace. Derek watched him for a moment before he slowly leaned up, bracing himself on the arm that was still underneath Stiles' neck by balancing his upper weight on his elbow and forearm; half hovering over him.  
  
"Hey. Hey—wanna see something?" Derek asked softly, his normally grumpy eyebrows raising a little. Stiles opened his eyes and looked up at him in a little confusion before he nodded slowly. Derek raise his free arm and placed his palm on Stiles' bicep then began to concentrate. It took a moment but then Stiles began to feel it; the pain edging away. His eyes widened a little and he looked down at Derek's arm, black lines running up along his forearm.  
  
"W-What—I—How—"  
  
"It's a little trick I learned a while ago." Derek offered him a small, fond smile. "I can take some, if not all, of your pain away so you can be comfortable for a little while." Stiles gaped a little in awe before he looked back up at the alpha.  
  
"Holy shit—that's freaking _cool_." He breathed and it earned a laugh from the wolf.  
  
"I'm glad my werewolf-y talents amaze you." Derek teased. Stiles grinned at him and chuckled, reaching up to poke Derek's broad chest.  
  
"You know, I just realized something. This is _the most_ I've ever heard you say." He chirped.   
  
Derek's eyebrows raised. "Is that so?"  
  
"Yup." Stiles popped the 'p'. "You deserve like.. you know what you deserve for talking so much in like a span of 10 minutes? A cookie. You deserve a cookie." Derek started laughing.  
  
"A cookie? My reward for talking that much in that amount of time is a _cookie_?"  
  
"How about a gold star then?"  
  
"Yeah, I'll just _smack it_ to my forehead." Derek joked and they both shared a moment of laughter.  
  
Stiles looked up at him as their laughter began to calm down. "Nah, nah.. Cookie and gold star aside, you deserve something; a reward if all." He said softly. Derek tilted his head a little and ran his hand up Stiles' arm, black veins disappeared seconds ago along with whatever pain the human was feeling.  
  
"Really?" Derek said slowly. "Then.. what is my reward then?"  
  
"...A kiss."  
  
Derek looked between Stiles' eyes for the longest of moments and they did nothing but stare in each others eyes before movement was made. Derek reached up and cupped Stiles' cheek in his hand, thumb tracing the litter of moles there; slowly inching towards his lips. As his bottom lip came into contact with Derek's thumb, Stiles parted his lips slowly and kept them ajar. With a small smile that lasted a second, Derek leaned down and closed the space between their lips in a soft kiss. When he pulled away a few seconds later, Stiles still had his eyes closed; waiting for more. So Derek ran his thumb along Stiles' jawline before he dipped back down to kiss him again, this time in a different manner. As their tongues danced together, Stiles let out a quiet moan into his mouth. Derek could feel Stiles' hand grasping on to the front of his shirt to keep him close, his other hand hold on to the bicep that was linked to the arm that was still underneath his neck. The wolf shifted as their lips moved in perfect sync, moving himself so that he was leaning over him more and tangled their legs together while he slides his hand down Stiles' torso before sliding underneath his hospital shirt. He wanted to feel the soft, smoothness of Stiles' warm skin underneath his fingertips and it seemed to please the human, who let out another sound against his lips. Derek smirked a little against his lips and managed to capture Stiles' bottom lip between his teeth, nibbling on it gently, slowly pulling on it, then letting it go. Stiles let out a breathe before he surged up, kissing him hotly as one his hands dove into Derek's locks to grip between his fingers a little.   
  
However, neither of them seemed to notice that the door was opened a little; curious heads were peeking in and watching the lovers make out on the hospital bed. One of them slowly raised their phone and took a picture, earning dirty looks from the others before they pulled away and silently shut the door.  
  
"Fuck, if that wasn't the hottest thing ever—" Erica muttered in a daze, staring at the picture she had taken.  
  
Jackson groaned and rolled his eyes. " _Please_. You disgust me." Erica raised her eyes and perked an eyebrow at him. Jackson fell silent for a moment. "...Okay, I saw their tongues and I admit it—it did _a little something_ down there."  
  
"A little?" Lydia scoffed. "Try _a lot_. You're sporting a massive boner right now, genius."  
  
Jackson shot her a look. "Don't act as if you don't find that severely hot." He hissed.  
  
The banshee acted innocent, as if she had no idea what he was talking about. "Find _what_ severely hot? Oh, you mean my best friend passionately making out with a werewolf in a hospital bed?" Erica raised her phone and showed her the picture she took. "..You're not gonna get me to say it, Erica."  
  
"Anyways," Erica grinned and shoved her phone into her back pocket. "I won the bet. Pay up." They both groaned and reluctantly shoved $20 each into her awaiting hand.  
  
It didn't take long for Stiles to recover. Although, since he was so animated, it took him a little longer to be released from the hospital ("Stiles, _what the hell_ were you doing?" "I was.. uh.. in the hallway.. ya know—taking a—taking a walk.." "You were racing around in a _wheelchair_ and fell down a flight of stairs." "...Oh come on, dad—like you haven't wanted to play a little _Fast N Furious_ in a wheelchair.") when his stitches got reopened. However, he was back to his normal, sarcastic and overly annoying self within no time. Today was just like any other day in the week; except they were having a pack meeting about how to defeat the Biggest Bad of the week.  
  
They were all currently surrounding the table in Derek's loft, all trying to come up with ideas to defeat the enemy. It was another supernatural being, of course- then again, when is it not. But this case seemed to be a little special; their enemy was part werewolf part vampire. With the help of Deaton, they got the essentials that needed to trap and/or kill the thing; a silver dagger, some mountain ash, mistletoe and wolfsbane (though those are optional), and garlic. There was a map laid out on the table, a layout map of the building that the hybrid was taking refuge in. They had the stuff they need but they didn't know exactly how to use it and when. None of their ideas seemed really good because if one of them suggested a decent one, another would counter with the other bad things could happen in result of that.  
  
"What about you, Stiles?" Scott called out and everyone turned their heads to him. _Stiles_ , who hadn't said a single word. **Stiles** , who had stayed in the background throughout the entire meeting (and every meeting actually) so he wouldn't get in the way. _Stiles_ , who of course wasn't sure if he was needed in the situation.  
  
"Me?" Stiles sputtered as he pointed to himself. Jackson gave him a look and Stiles paused before chuckling sheepishly, rubbing the side of his neck. "Oh, uh.. I dunno, guys, I just.." Derek leaned away from the table as he sensed anxiety coming off of his mate. He walked over to him, slides his arm around Stiles' waist to bring him closer to the table.  
  
"Stop being so anxious." Derek said softly and held him close, built arm protective around his waist as he leaned the side of his hip against the table. "C'mon, babe. I saw the gears working in there since the second we ran into the prick earlier." Stiles' eyebrows raised at him in surprise before he laughed and shook his head, looking down at the map.  
  
"I just.." He hesitated. Derek gave his hip a gentle squeeze and Stiles felt his heart melt a little; Derek was always so sweet and patient with him, just him. So he gave Derek a grateful smile after he reached up to slide his hand up Derek's back to rest on to his shoulder.  
  
"You know what? Forget this. Forget the map, Stiles." Lydia huffed and grabbed the map, crumbling it into a ball and tossing it to the side. "You don't need these instructions. When was the last time you even _used_ instructions, am I right? You don't need the instructions because you are _too smart_." Stiles raised his head to look up at the banshee. "So don't waste your time with it, okay? You can figure it out. Stiles, you're always the one who figures it out. So you can do it. _Figure. It. Out._ " Stiles studied her for a moment then looked at Derek, who gave him a subtle nod. The human gnaws on his bottom lip and looked back at the table; eyes lingering on the stuff Deaton had given to them before something sparked in his eyes seconds later. Derek couldn't help but smirk a little at the sight of an idea blooming in Stiles' eyes.  
  
"Allison." Stiles shot his head towards the Argent. "How many arrows do you have?"  
  
She blinked a little. "Well, right now, I believe I have 24. Why?"  
  
"Are they silver?"  
  
Allison paused briefly. "They _could_ be."  
  
"Good." Stiles leaned back a little and hummed. "Make as much as you deem fit but," He reached across the table and grabbed the garlic, tossing it to her. "crush these—make them into a liquid and make sure to dip the arrows into them. We have to draw it out of the building and out of the town before it can cause anymore destruction then it already has so you'll be the one to draw it out. There are too many people living around the building. Isaac, since you're the one that pissed it off, you'll have to draw it out into the preserve." Isaac let out pitiful squawk and everyone chuckled, patting his back. Stiles looked around and spotted something leaning against the wall.   
  
Derek followed his gaze and looked back at him. "A baseball bat? Stiles, remember the _last time_ you used one against a werewolf?" He pointed out with a raised eyebrow. Stiles pulled away from him in order to grab the bat, twirling it around his fingers before he looked up with a small grin.  
  
"That only happened because I was unprepared." He hummed. "This time, I'm thinking about adding a few... _homey touches._ "  
  
Scott paused in realization. "Oh god. Are you gonna do what I _think_ you're gonna do?"

Fast forward to 12 hours later when they're standing in the middle of the preserve at butt-fuck in the morning; Scott and Isaac a little scuffed up from the run in with the hybrid and Allison half-way out of arrows because she had to put in more than she thought she did. They were all standing around a _very_ unconscious hybrid with Stiles holding a slightly bloody baseball (that just so happened to be covered in mountain ash, wrapped in wolfsbane, and rolled in mistletoe) bat in his hand.  
  
"Well, whaddaya know?" Stiles looked at his bat as he panted heavily, covered in dirt and a little blood. "Aluminum _is_ better than wood."


End file.
